


An Unorthodox Application of Daedalus' Rose

by insanity_by_proxy



Series: In Which Jonathan Plows Arabella Up and Down the Garden Path [1]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, F/M, Married Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanity_by_proxy/pseuds/insanity_by_proxy
Summary: Jonathan plots a trap for his wife - and practices a defunct spell while he's at it. Arabella learns that a fire hazard can be an immensely pleasurable thing - and misses a whist party in the process.A wonderful time is had by all!(Somewhere in London, Mr. Norrell feels disapproving of his pupil and doesn't know why.)





	An Unorthodox Application of Daedalus' Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This fic - and the two that will follow it - were inspired by a friend of mine commenting on the "disappointing number of fics in which Jonathan plows Arabella up and down the garden path", and how somebody really ought to do something about that...
> 
> And now here we are. (No, I did not take this at all seriously.) 
> 
> To the smut!

> _"Daedalus' Rose: a fairly complicated procedure derived by Martin Pale for preserving emotions, vices, and virtues in amber or honey or beeswax. When the preserving medium is warmed, the imprisoned qualities are released. The Rose has -- or rather had -- a huge number of applications. It could be used to dispense courage to oneself or inflict cowardice on one's enemy; it could provoke love, lust, nobility of purpose, anger, jealousy, ambition, self-sacrifice, etc., etc."_
> 
> \- Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, Chapter 61, footnote 5.

Lady West was having an afternoon soiree at her Wimpole Street residence later that day, and Mrs. Strange was inclined to attend. There were a great many invitations to such events that being the wife of the second-greatest magician of the age – not to mention a war-hero – required one to attend. This was the second or third such event that Mrs. Strange had attended that week, and she had at least one more social engagement that was absolutely necessary before she could have a day to herself. But at least Jonathan would be attending that one as well.

This was something that Arabella had not anticipated about married life; that between Jonathan’s studies, the constant demands for his services, various social engagements, and the running of household affairs – not to mention the war itself – Arabella could go the entire day without seeing her husband until he crawled into bed beside her late at night. And as much as she supported him and understood how important his work was, that didn’t keep her from missing his company.

All the same, Lady West had personally requested Mrs. Strange’s attendance at her whist party and so Arabella would have to go, if only to do her part in fulfilling Mr. Norrell’s vision of the respectability of English magic. And Jonathan would have to entertain himself for the afternoon. Arabella smiled at the thought. With his nose buried in some book, it was entirely possible that Jonathan wouldn’t even notice his wife’s absence until she had returned for dinner.

On her way out the door, Arabella searched the foyer for her gloves and was puzzled that they were no where to be found.

“Mary,” she called, “have you seen my gloves? The white ones embroidered with violets.”

“No, ma’am.” Mary replied, from the direction of the kitchens. “I left them in the foyer after mending them. Shall I check your room?”

“No, Mary, that’s alright. I can look myself.”

The bedroom that she and Jonathan shared was located on the top floor of the townhouse toward the back of the building; meaning that their room was removed both from the noise of the street and the bustle of the house. Jonathan spent most of his time in the library on the ground floor or in his personal study on the first floor, and so when Arabella found that a candle had been left burning in their bedroom she felt a stab of annoyance at her forgetful husband.

“Jonathan!” she called out with a sharp edge to her voice. “You left a candle burning again!” She continued under her breath. “Really, one of these days he’ll burn the house down and half of London with it…”

As Arabella approached the candle to snuff it out she found that a particular scent caught her nose. One of bitter henbane, and the smell of the air before a storm – all anticipation and built-up potential. It was the smell of magic, or so Arabella had learned after so many years of being married to a magician. It was the same scent that clung to her husband whenever he was plying his trade.

Arabella brought a finger to her lips as she stifled a smile, there was something else in that scent too, something that made her think rather intimately of her husband. Memories of stolen kisses from their childhood. Memories of more recent trysts; the feel of Jonathan’s skin against her own, the sound of his breath in her ear as he moved within her, the slightly salty taste of his skin when she pressed kisses to his shoulders… All thoughts that were immensely distracting from what she had come into the room for in the first place.

It took Arabella a moment to realize that the scent was coming from the candle itself. As she drew closer to investigate she found that both the scent and the memories that came with it grew stronger. Arabella gasped as a particularly recent memory flitted across her mind and with it came a pleasurable feeling between her thighs. The memory was that of Jonathan’s tongue against her nether lips. This had been a rather delightful trick that Jonathan had been advised upon while in the Peninsula. He had then subjected his wife to it nearly every night since his return. Arabella had to admit, it was heavenly.

“Ah, there you are Bell.” Jonathan’s voice called her back to present as he entered the room. His expression fell when he saw that she was wearing her coat and bonnet. “Oh… are you going out?”

Jonathan, for his part, had spent the better part of his morning plotting a cunning trap for his wife. One that would also, conveniently, allow him to test some spells that Mr. Norrell would not approve of. He had in the process of making these plans entirely forgotten that Arabella was meant to be going out.

Arabella turned at the sound of her husband’s voice only to be met with a childish pout.

“Yes, darling,” she replied, “to Lady West’s whist party?” But there was a more pressing matter for Arabella to inquire after. “Jonathan… did you do something to this candle?”

His expression brightened. “Oh! Yes. Actually, that candle is an application of Daedalus’s Rose. You see my love, Mr. Norrell was under the mistaken impression that the spell no longer worked. However…” At this, Jonathan’s smile took on a distinctly self-satisfied air. “_I _was able to make it work.”

He began to pace back and forth as he described the properties of the spell to his wife. “It is a fairly complicated procedure, to be certain. It was devised by Dr. Pale for the purpose of preserving emotions in wax or some other semi-solid medium. When the preserving medium is warmed, the imprisoned qualities are released… I read about the various applications of the spell while in the Peninsula, but I could find no useful employment by which to experiment. Now that I am home however, I have a great number of ideas as to its various applications. If you are not amenable I can, of course, put an end to the effects--”

“--Jonathan!”

Arabella’s sudden exclamation drew his attention back to his wife only to find that she was already mostly undressed and had probably been trying to get his attention for some time.

“If you don’t get over here right now, I will not be held accountable for my actions!”

Jonathan took in the scene before him with vague amusement, and giving his wife an ironic smile, he replied. “And what actions would those be?”

He did not anticipate the emphatic nature of her next move. Before he could fully comprehend what had happened, Jonathan found himself yanked towards the bed and then thrown flat on his back. By the time he did come to his senses, Arabella was straddling him and had divested herself of the remainder of her garments.

“I take it that… you approve of… my little surprise?” Jonathan asked in between kisses. By this time the candle was starting to affect him as well, and the room had taken on a slightly hazy quality and there was a pleasant tightness to his trousers.

“Very much so.” Arabella said, “Although Lady West will be rather annoyed that I am late to her whist party.”

“Tell her – ah!” Arabella’s hands had undone the buttons at the front of his trousers and she wrapped her delicate fingers around the shaft of his cock. She then began to stroke him with the expertise of someone who had been doing so for years, and Jonathan started to find it much harder to form coherent sentences. “Tell her –” He moaned and squirmed on the bed, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto. “Tell her that – cows!” At that precise moment Arabella took him into her mouth, and all other thoughts fled from the magician’s mind.

“Cows?” His wife asked a moment later.

“Cows?” He repeated back, wondering why on earth his wife was bringing up bovines at a time like this.

“You said something about telling Lady West about cows?”

Jonathan opened his eyes to find his wife smiling at him coquettishly, all the while still stroking his shaft with her hand. He had the impression that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Mustering what little reason he could find, he was determined to prove to his wife that he would finish his thought. “You’ll just have to tell Lady West that there was a cow driver in the road, thus making you late.”

Arabella laughed, and Jonathan suspected that she was laughing _at_ him, and so he resolved to turn the tables on his wife once more. This was supposed to be a trap for _her_ after all, and she was looking far too smug for someone in a trap.

Arabella gave a small squeak of surprise when Jonathan suddenly flipped their positions on the bed so that she was now pinned under him. His erection pressed insistently into her thigh reminding her of her own desires, and Arabella thrust her hips up in encouragement. The candle’s effects had her ready and wanting, and her goal had only been to get her husband ready too.

“Jonathan,” she moaned pitifully, doing her best to look meek and vulnerable. Hoping that he would take pity on her and give her what she wanted.

Unfortunately, this seemed to backfire. Seeing how far gone she was in her pleasure put a glint in Jonathan’s eye that seemed to say that he wasn’t done teasing her yet. Taking a moment to push down his trousers and to take off his waistcoat and shirt, Jonathan then returned to the bed and made a show of kissing his wife from the tips of her toes steadily upwards towards her nethers. Arabella bit her lip and watched, anticipation mounting, as he got closer and closer to the spot where she desperately wanted him. But much to her frustration he passed over it entirely, kissing his way up her belly, then across her breasts and up her neck until he was nibbling gently at her ear lobe.

“Jonathan!” Arabella keened again, bucking her hips and giving a frustrated huff when he moved away, providing her with no satisfaction whatsoever.

“Yes, my love?” he replied, there was a curl to his lips that she didn’t like. He was enjoying this far too much.

“_Please,_ Jonathan.”

“Please, what?”

She turned her head to kiss him, and he pulled away. No matter what she did, she found that he was always just out of reach; redirecting her hands when she tied to touch him, shying away from her kisses as she pursued him. Torturing her in the most tantalizing way. Finally, she lost her patience. “Ugh, you _rake_! _Fuck me_ already!”

Jonathan laughed at her expense, but mercifully, he complied. As he leaned down to kiss her sweetly, one hand traveled down her body before settling at the juncture of her thighs, where his fingers began to play at her folds and at the spot at the top that made her moan. She dug her fingernails into his arms and nearly sobbed with relief. Pleasure raced up her spine and her head fell back into the pillows as her husband played her like a well-practiced instrument. Jonathan slipped one finger inside her, then two, and the heel of his palm ground against her on the outside. He then crooked his fingers gently and pressed against the rough patch inside her, and Arabella found herself hurtling over the edge before she felt that she’d even had time to savor it.

Opening her eyes, she found Jonathan staring back at her with a hungry expression on his face.

“More,” She said, reaching for him. “I want you inside me.”

They shifted wordlessly until Jonathan’s hips were cradled between her thighs, and then with a few adjustments and a shallow thrust, he was filling her. Arabella moaned again loudly, enjoying the feeling of him as he began to move. She raised her knees to his sides so that he could find a better angle and they both cried out when he did. Jonathan’s head fell to her neck and she gripped his shoulders tightly.

“Keep going.” She pleaded. “Don’t stop.”

Ever the dutiful husband, Jonathan resumed his pace. His thrusts were hard and deep and just what she wanted, and it wasn’t long before she felt a familiar flutter in her muscles that told her she could come again if she tried.

Reaching a hand between them, Arabella began to play with herself as Jonathan continued to take his own pleasure. Between the ministrations of her fingers and the slide of his cock, Arabella could feel herself coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst, when a hand on her cheek startled her. She met Jonathan’s eyes to find him watching her intently.

The intensity of the moment was enough to send her over the edge again, and she cried out as she came. A few moments later she felt a warmth flooding her and Jonathan grunted into her neck as he spilled himself.

He collapsed then, rolling so that he didn’t crush her, and their breaths were loud in the silence of their room as they both came down from the high.

“What was that spell again?” Arabella asked eventually.

“Daedalus’ Rose.” He replied, though his answer was somewhat muffled by a pillow. He adjusted his head before continuing. “Did you like it?”

Arabella smiled at the vulnerable expression on his face. She appreciated that he still looked for her approval even after all of his success. “It was indeed a pleasant surprise.”

A few moments later there came a knock at the door. “I found your gloves ma’am!” Mary’s voice floated into the room. “They were in Mr. Strange’s study.”

Jonathan had the decency to look sheepish when she shot him a look. He had been the one to misplace her gloves, after all…

“Thank you, Mary, but I don’t think I’ll be attending Lady West’s party…” She called out. “I seem to have taken ill quite suddenly.” Her voice sounded less than sure on that account.

“Oh! Shall I fetch Dr. Livingston?” Mary replied, sounding alarmed at the prospect of a swift and mysterious illness overtaking her mistress.

“No! No. That’s quite alright.” Arabella said, with a little alarm. “Er… Mr. Strange is tending to me, and I’m certain that it will pass.”

“Yes, Mary, I will attend to Mrs. Strange’s _every_ need.” Jonathan said with a sly grin. “I’m sure that if I keep her in bed, she’ll be feeling quite well by supper.”

Arabella smacked him across the shoulder at his all-too obvious euphemisms, and he grinned wickedly back at her. Arabella could almost hear the girl blushing through the door.

“Oh, um… very well then. I’ll leave you be. Feel better, ma’am.” Mary said quickly, before scurrying away.

Arabella gave an exasperated huff, before flopping back down onto the mattress, and Jonathan leaned closer.

“And are there any needs that I can attend to, Mrs. Strange?” His tone suggested that he had a very particular need in mind. One that had been fulfilled not five minutes ago but was already starting to seem attractive once more.

Arabella cast a glance over to the side-table and saw that the candle still burned brightly. Jonathan took the opportunity to start kissing her neck. Heat began to pool between her legs once again, and Arabella wondered how long the effects of the candle would last.

“There is a need that I can think of, actually.” She said, and Jonathan made an appreciative sound. “Would you mind performing that trick that you learned on the Peninsula again?”

Jonathan grinned at her in reply and began to kiss his way down her body once more.

Needless to say, Arabella never made it to Lady West’s whist party.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> If you made it this far, please hit that kudos button! If you really liked it, why not leave a review? Anything as short as "liked it!" will be just as cherished as something longer. 
> 
> Thanks again!


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